Of Pies and Pearls
by HollyinSanest
Summary: There were little stories going about called penny dreadful, small affordable amusements that sold for penny. There is one, called 'The String of Pearls' and its mystery is based on a somewhat acclaimed true account of a dreadful tale involving pies and pearls. That is until Evie Frye decides to investigate further on the matter. [Pairing: Evie x Henry]


**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything mentioned in this fic, nor do I own any form of content in it coming from the Assassin's Creed Series. This fic would have a mention of the penny dreadful 'The String of Pearls' and its affiliation with a certain play which you readers would find familiar, so here I am to declared that I did not make it up or even own it in the first place. I would also want to stress that most of these facts are obtained from Wikipedia which I have no claim to and have a few doubts on its accuracy (so, pardon if there are existing inaccuracies that have presented itself in this fic). Oh, and there may be some mention of Charles Dicken's work, as in titles, they as well are not mine.

 **Summary:** There were little stories going about called penny dreadfuls, small affordable amusements that sold for penny. There is one, called 'The String of Pearls' and its mystery is based on a somewhat acclaimed true account of a dreadful tale involving pies and pearls. That is until Evie Frye decides to investigate further on the matter.

 **Author's Note:** This will not spoil the main storyline of the Assassin's creed Syndicate. Since we can all agree that Evie Frye and Henry Green make an awesome power couple, I guess I could get away with 'shipping' them-and hopefully still not spoil the story at all, so consider Evie and Henry in some sort of courtship as we call 'dating'. Anyways, this is my first on any AC fic. Hope you guys enjoy it.

 **Of Pies and Pearls**

 **Chapter 1**

Another mission done called for celebration, or at least that was what Jacob Frye had declared when he had half-dragged his twin sister, Evie Frye, all the way to a pie shop in Lambeth. She for once hadn't complained and decided that after those nights of roof-top running, a warm pie might chase the aches away before she settled on a long nap until their next mission. Evie wondered if Henry was back at the train, possibly going over some of their upcoming plans to travel abroad. Hopefully those plans were just wistful thinking, especially when there is much to be done in the establishment of the Rooks and possibly the training of more Assassins in the territory.

As for now, she read the letter she had received from George Westhouse, an old friend of theirs and a fellow Assassin, while Jacob waited for their orders to arrive. He was as if a child in a sweetshop his excitement clearly showing while he watched the crowd of the pie shop whilst taking a swing of ale. Apparently, one of the members of the Rooks had tipped him off on the pie shop and how absolutely to die for were the daily baked goods that Jacob had found his mouth watering at the description. So, he swore that he was to try some at the end of their mission and here they were.

"Quite a lot they have 'ere", Jacob looked over at Evie who was tucking the letters into her breast pocket. "So, what did ol'George have to say about our excursion?"

"He said that father would have demanded that he had his say if he were still around and we still had an earful coming from him once he's here", Evie smirked.

"If he ever comes here, dear sister", Jacob reassured her.

Soon, they were served with a plate each of warm pie. The heavenly smell hit Evie and she found herself digging her spoon into the pie. Just as she was about to take a bite, she found herself hesitating as if there was an instinct that was an urge to not touch the pie in front of her. Her first thoughts went to the rational, maybe it was off but there may be something else. Looking up at Jacob, she had noticed her twin was working on a mouthful of the pie's thick crust. Jacob seemed to have caught her expression because he'd stopped chewing and wondered why the bloody hell was his sister gawking at him as if he had grown another head.

He was about to ask her when Evie bent close and whispered, "Something's not right".

Then, her next few words shocked him.

"Jacob, spit that out".

No. Maybe it wasn't the words but instead the tone she had used. It was serious and had none of the tease if it were a trick. The tone itself, frightened him a little and since, he, the Assassin Jacob Frye was afraid of very little, this itself were starting to cause goose pimples on his arms.

"Why?" Jacob demanded past his mouthful of pie crust.

"There's something wrong with it. It may be poisoned, I'm afraid", Evie pointed out. "But I'm not quite sure".

Immediately without discretion, Jacob spew the mouthful of pie onto his plate and rinsed his mouth with the ale to spit that out too. "If they were to poison us, shouldn't a dart do a much better job?" Jacob asked in a lower tone, almost a growl.

Picking up a spoonful of the pie's content, Evie sniffed at it and shook her head. "It would have taken much courage for one to get close to any of us", she offered.

Poking around the contents on her plate, she had found nothing suspicious of the pie's contents. At least nothing she could have detected by sight. Lumps of stewed meat in a thick sauce with peas and carrot, nothing that would have been a danger. Maybe the meat or any of the ingredients were off, maybe she had detected a smell that hadn't pleased her, it was plain hard to tell. She found herself looking around the mediocre sized lot, the other customers were fairly content with their food but still there was that nagging feeling.

"We must leave now, Jacob", she felt her stomach churning.

"Evie, you aren't making any sense", Jacob complained, looking like a hurt puppy in some way. She would have teased him, if she weren't about to be ill.

"We must go. Now" Evie found a little urgency escaping through her voice. Sighing, her twin placed the pay to their food on the table without any further question. Once they were outside, Evie found that her wave of nausea had oddly passed and took a deep breaths of the outside air.

"Evie, what the hell was that? Who is trying to poison us? If so, we can't be standing around like this", Jacob demanded, worry crossing his expression as he grasped her arm.

"No. Not a poisoner. Certainly not once of Starrick's associates", Evie shook her head. "Let us get back to the train".

At that, she nudged his hand away and walked towards the direction of the station. Jacob followed her, still a little at odds with his sister's behaviour a moment ago. There was something he must know.

"Maybe Greenie could tell me", he thought to himself, especially when Greenie was in fact have been getting a little too close to his sister in the past few months. However, once they had gone back, Evie shut herself in her compartment, leaving more questions than answers. Henry Green or as Jacob fondly dubbed 'Greenie' wasn't around, maybe he is involved in a late reconnaissance.

So, Jacob Frye did the next best thing, and fell asleep on his favourite seat, tipping his top hat to cover his eyes and to let any of the Rooks on the train know that waking him could possibly end in a bloodied broken nose. Maybe he could take Evie's advice on getting a place somewhere in Whitechapel. But maybe that was for later.

Evie Frye wasn't in any way as relaxed a Jacob.

She paced the small space of the compartment, careful as not to knock over any of Henry's things as she did so. The walk back to the train had her thinking. The pie. The urge to be sick. She had read the works of a Mister Charles Dickens and had found most of it compelling. But none had struck her as much as the Pickwick Papers, which were written around the year 1836 and 1837, well before she was born. Yet, her acquaintance to Mister Dickens had come with a recommendation of some excerpts and a thirst for more of his previous works.

She hadn't much a taste for fiction but when it came to his works, she had plenty of attention to spare. One of it had a mention of pies made with cats and kittens and musings that it was best if one should make sure that a lady were making them to avoid so. Mayhap that was what had reminded her when she was about to dig in onto the pie at the shop.

"Whatever it is, it must wait", Evie said to herself almost sternly.

"What is it that must wait, dear?" Henry asked as he joined her.

"Nothing", Evie smiled a little too stiffly but Henry was considerate not to press further. Instead, he whipped out something and held it pout to her, his expression a little abashed and shy yet his eyes expressed the devotion he had for her. It was a booklet and on it was an exquisite print of a string of pearls with the title 'The String of Pearls' etched in proud typography on the cover.

"It's a penny dreadful", Henry explained after letting out a yawn. "Clara brought in a few of late as a thank you gift. This one, I think, you would like".

So, Henry has indeed caught on to her literary tastes.

She found herself smiling at him, before pulling her lover in for a passionate kiss. Henry let her lead him to the bed they shared, both settling in for a nap after peeling off their heavy Assassin's coats and gear. Snuggling close to each other, Evie found Henry out like a light. Inspecting the booklet, Evie decided what harm could be done to read it before she retires for the day, it was in fact a relatively thin booklet as compared to the thickly bound hard-covers in her father's library. To her surprise, it was a tale that had her spellbound at the first few pages until she reached the part of the story that shocked her.

Not in a good way at all.

And Evie Frye wasn't the kind of person that was shocked this easily.

 **Author's Note:** End of the first chapter. There will be more, though not as excessive as a full blown novel. Yes, maybe as short as a penny dreadful. Anyways, hang in there whilst I work on the next chapter. Comments are heavily appreciated. And in the spirit of binge-watching Supernatural in between my playthroughs of AC: Syndicate, carry on my wayward sons!


End file.
